


Jungle Fever

by BellChimes



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 3
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Gradual Descent into Madness, Implied Relationships, Minor Character Death, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:36:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6351907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellChimes/pseuds/BellChimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because no matter what Egoraptor says, weed does not give you a spanish accent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Far Cry or any of it's contents  
> First off I make no promises. This story will happen on it's own or not at all. If you push to pee, you'll just pass out. If, for any reason, I stop writting the full rough draft will be posted as a last chapter. On that news, there is, in fact, a plan. Hallelujah
> 
> Buckle in boys and girl, this gonna be a hell of a ride.

"Aren't you excited, _Mijo_?" Angelina asked, turning to her son.

 The boy had been all but vibrating in his seat for the past hour. Hector always was full of energy, never walking anywhere he could run; or, preferably, jump, skip, or hop.  Whenever Angelina would have him help out in the kitchen, he would spend just as much time squirming and complaining as he would sorting beans. Manuel would come home frustrated each time he took Hector out fishing; Hector much prefered swimming to fishing. But he was six, it was only natural for a boy his age to be so full of life. The flight must have been torture for her poor _Cariño_.

" _Si, Mamá_ ", her _niño's_ attention barely left the airplane window. She'd had Manuel switch seats with Hector after the fifth time he had tryed to stop the stewardess to talk. The passing landscape was keeping him entertained at least.

A glance over at her husband revealed Manuel furisously typing on his laptop. She was grateful to get to spend her time together with her boys, but Manuel was in a tizzy. Their family vaccation was going to be the longest he had ever been away from his boat, and fishing tour business in Veracruz. The week before leaving he had done nothing but harass the poor, partime boy, who would be running the shop while they were away. No doubt Manuel was even now composing an email full of more contegency plans, should anyone call to book a tour.

It was going to be nice to be away from all the day to day worries of home: no cooking and cleaning, no getting home late, tired from spening the day in the sun. Just Angelina, Manuel, and Hector, enjoying eachother, and the beauty of Thailand.

The plane gave a colossal lurch, causing several passengers to scream. Cussing, Manuel reached down to pick up his laptop, which had been knocked from his hands. 

Giving Manuel the look he deserved for using such language, Angelina turned to check on Hector, " _Mi Cariño_ , are you okay?"

Hector turned to his mom with wide eyes and nodded.

Almost before Angelina was able to feel relief, then plane lurched once more.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we would like to ask you to buckle your lap belts and to remain calm," came over the speakers.

"Manuel, what is happening?", Angelina turned to her husband.

"I'm not sure." Manuel tried to grab the attention of a passing stwardess, "Excuse me, Miss?"

"Sir, I must ask that you and your family buckle in and remain seated, until further instruction," she responded and quickly moved further up the plane.

Angelina turned back to Hector, making sure he had fastened his seatbelt, before securing her own.  Someone, further up the aisle from their family, stood up to grab something from their overhead luggage. The plane shook once more, casting the man into the passengers across from him.

With each mighty shudder, the passengers seemed to grow more panicked; shreaking with each drop, murmering and crying amoungst themselves.

Hector clutched Angelina's hand tightly. He didn't scream, but his terror showed in his eyes and white knuckled grip. He was breathing deep and fast. 

"Hey, _Mijo_ , I'm right here," Angelina comforted. She was quite panicked herself, but right now she need to be strong for Hector.

"Manuel?" Angelina questioned, but he only shook his head.

"You don't think we're going to crash do you?" one of the wemon, seated in front of them, whispered to the other. "I heard another plane crashed over Thailand earlier this year. The papers' we're saying that it may have been a bombing."

"What?!", hissed the other. "Why didn't you mention this earlier? We never would have come on this trip!".

Angelina grasped Hector's hand tighter and began to pray. Please, please let her baby make it through this.

Another jerk of the plane. More screams.

" _Mamá, Mamá_ , look!", Hector's voice drew Angelina's attention out the window. One of the plane's engines had caught fire.

" _Ay dios mio_!" Angelina gasped.

Maneul wrapped an arm firmly around her shoulders.

Gradually, the plane began to tilt, causing the overhead luggage to spill out into the aisle, and onto passengers. The screams had become a constant at this point. Hector had both arms wrapped firmly around his mother's now, and was starting to cry.

Angelina almost mistook the metalic shreek for more people screaming. Then came a sudden rush of wind, followed by, what felt like, all the air in the cabin being sucked out. The sound continued to be drawn out as the planes hull was pulled apart.

Angelina could no longer stop herself. As she too joined the cacophony of screams filling the air, sheer panic set it. She didn't want to die! She didn't want to lose her husband, or her Hector! She loved her life, and her home! All she wanted was to be there, with them!

The screams, the blood pounding in her ears, slowly Angelina's vision started gowing dark.

Please! Please, if nothing else, let Hector make it though this!

Angelina lost consciousness before the aircraft ever hit the water.

\-----------------------

"Hey, over here!"

"There's more over this way!"

The voices seemed far off, muffled, as if they were a million miles away. Now that they had Hector's attention though, more things started to make themselves known. The crash of waves, the calling of gulls, the warm sand beneath his cheek, and the cold water licking at his lower legs. And a solid weight, pushing down on his back. As this last thing regestered, Hector seemed to come alive. He began to kick and trash about, stirring up sand, but nothing seemed to dislodge the heavy object.

"Hey, easy there." The voices now sounded directly above him.

More voices, a grunt, and the the weight was lifted.

Hector quickly scrambled to his feet. All around him stood people he didn't recognize. 

Where was he? How did he get here? 

The beach that was for sure. But, this didn't look like any of the beaches he'd been to before. There were far too many plants, and he couldn't see signs of any buildings nearby.

 He hadn't gotten swept out to sea, had he? Enrique's dad had said: if they ever swam out too far, the current would carry them away to the Island of Bad Children! There would be no TV or candy, and they would have to do chores all day!

Hector's brow furrowed and he began to gnaw on his lower lip.

Wait. That wasn't right though. He hadn't been swimming with Enrique, he was sure. They hadn't been able to hang out in a while, not with his family being so busy getting ready for-

The vacation! That right! They had driven to Mexico City, and got on the plane! Then...

No... no,no,no! No!

Hector finally stopped and took a good look around. The beach seemed to be littered with debris. Clothes, suitcases, and scraps of metal stretched as far as he could see. He spotted the thing that had pinned him down, another large hunk of metal, painted in bright color. 

The strange people were casting nervous glaces amongst eachother.

Hector felt like there was a sudden vice around his neck. He could barely breathe, only pulling shallow breathes though his nose. He could feel his eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears. His whole body began to shake.

"Were's my mom?" Hector managed to ask. He needed to get back to her, quickly. Right now!

More looks were tossed about.

"Your the only living person we have come across", from a man.

"No. You must have seen her!", Hector insisted. "She has long dark hair, she would be wearing a dress, she loves dresses!"

The man shook his head.

"Where's my mom!" Hector more screamed than asked. He could feel the dam of tears starting to break. Boys weren't supposed to cry!

Some of the group was starting to edge away. Drifting off,  digging trough the luggage, or back into the foliage. Difting off like the grains of his control.

One woman remained. 

"Hey", she said, not unkindly, "what is your name?"

"Hector," he sniffed, "Hector Montenegro".


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Far Cry, it's's characters or any of it's contents.
> 
> Way faster than the rest of this is going to update, but I kinda wanted to release two chapters to start anyhow.

Hector almost couldn't make out the patch of brown fur amidst the heavy, emerald underbrush.

The sun light filtered through the thick canopy, causing the steeks of light to dance in the wind. All around came the trilling of insects and birds. This far inland you couldn't hear the ocean, but you could still taste it on the breeze.

Hector slowly made a large arch around the group, hoping to get a better angle. He was careful to remain quite, and downwind.

Hector had been crawling around the brush for, what felt like, all day. He NEEDED to bag this deer. They hardly needed all the meat, but he would be able to trade it for grain, vegetables, and medicine. Things he couldn't hunt in the wild. Important things too. 

Citra was sick with a fever. Had been for a couple days now. It seemed so stupid! Back home, Hector would get sick all the time. _Mamá_ would give him some aspirin, rub some Vick's on his chest, and he'd feel better the next day.

Now? Now a fever could kill.

Hector missed home so much he could taste it. He longed for three, warm meals a day. For after school snacks. For playing outside with his friends. For his comfy bed. For his mom. Hector knew, HE KNEW, if he was just patient, patient like his _papá_ always said, one day someone would come looking for him. His Uncle, his _abuela_ , Enrique.

Hector had followed the woman from the beach, his first day on the Rook Islands, back to her village. A ramshackle group of buildings collectively called Beras Town. There wasn't much in Beras for a lone child. The people weren't particularly hateful, but no one had the reasources to take on a kid. A fact quickly proven when Hector met Citra, a four year old girl and fellow orphan. 

Five now, Citra was intellegent, strong willed and resourceful. They first met when they found themselves seeking shelter, from one of the islands many squalls, under the same roof overhang. It had struck Hector, for how scared and out of place he felt, this small, frail girl seemed even more so. Of course she then stuck him, giving him a bloody nose for trespassing on HER overhang, but the thought stuck with him. They had quickly banded together. While none of the villagers where cruel, lone children had a tendency to disappear whenever _la chota_ came through town. He didn't know how much more of a chance they stood together, but Hector swore he would protect Citra. Looking after her was more than a little self serving as well, it helped to distract from the harsh reality of his new life, and she was the only piece of this world that was his and no one else's.

The patience he never seemed to have time for at home, had certainly served him well, here, on Rook. Hector had convinced a local hunter, Darma, to teach him how to hunt. It had taken some work, and no small amount of tinacity. Darma finally agreed, it was important for the children to be able to feed themselves, but if he was going to teach Hector, he was going to do it correctly. 

First, Darma taught Hector how to track. This made Hector angery. How was knowing if a particular set of hoof prints belonged to a boar or a pig going to fill their bellies? Bacon was bacon. Darma, with a combination of wisdom and tough love that would make a mandrill monkey proud, simply told him to finish following the tracks and see if he found the answer to his question along the way. Hector returned out of breathe and bleeding badly from a laceration on his arm, where the boar had gored him with it's tusk. Many a lesson was learned that day. The importance of knowing your prey, only one.

So it contiued. From tracking, they moved to how to clean an animal. This was something Hector already had a passing familiarity with from watching his father prepare fish. There was something unsettling about seeing the spill of intestines and organs on such a larger scale, however. And the smell! The sent of blood and death. It hung heavy in the air and would have been more than a little off putting, if it hadn't ment food. 

From cleaning to how to craft bows and arrows from plants found on the island. This was another point in which Hector lost his temper, why in the world should he need know how to do this? You could buy a bow from most any of the shops found in the larger settlements of Rook. Metal ones, that would do a better job than a wood one could. When asked just where Hector had gotton enough money to buy a bow, the boy silently went back to attempting to find a suitable branch.

On to how to use a bow. Which Hector did, infact, not complain about, but for which he still seemed to end up covered in blisters and welts. The bow was not a forgiving mistress.

From there to stealth. Hector was not a fan. The necessity was obvious, but Hector was a loud creature at heart. When we would play with the neighbor hood kids, his _mamá_ said you could hear his whooping and hollering all the way at the end of the street. He used to love hopping down the stairs in the morning, making as much noise as he could. Crouching, holding still, and remaining as quite as possible made him long for the days bean sorting.

And finally, at last, Darma took Hector on a real hunt. It was successful, thanks, in no small part, to Darma himself.

Hector had been able to find prints in the dirt. Buffalo, if he wasn't mistaken. Darma had warned against hunting them close to towns, while they did roam the island wild, a number of them were domesticated. They were used as beasts if burden, and produced milk; killing one would be a serious crime. Luckly, in this particular part of the island, no such caution was necessary. Beras had no buffalo to call their own. The tracking of the creature was not particularly challenging. They were, after all, following a herd of cattle. 

When they had caught up to the herd Darma, teasing, asked Hector if he'd been tracking one in particular, or if any of them would do? Hector unused to his mentor displaying anything other than seriousness, neutrality, or disappointment, simply stared, wondering if it was a test. 

Nothing too big, keeping rotting meat around would only draw bugs and predators. Hector selected a young heifer. Too old to be a calf, but not quite yet reaching her full size. Gently Hector drew his bow, sure to make as little noise as he could, he was not interested in chasing her across the island. Hector aimed for her eye. Hs didn't feel comfertable enough yet, to try and predict where her heart was. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in and release.

Hector hissed in agitation before the arrow even hit it's mark. The heifer had turned her head, biting at her side, and the arrow missed it's mark. Luck was on his side, Hector had fired at her head on, and the arrow lodged in her neck instead. Hector felt a brief rush of victory, before the creature started to scream. The wound was fatal, but would take time to kill.

Hector felt sick, the fish his _papá_ brought home cetainly never made such noises. The terror in her shreeks reminded him of the plane crash. Everyone screaming, panicked over the loss of their lives.

Hector had been distracted, lost in his own mind, he didn't notice how riled up the rest of the herd had become. They snorted and stomped, finally charging strait for the two males. Hector looked up at the thundering deat of hooves. Before dread could fully take hold, three loud bangs sound from right beside Hector. He couldn't hear much over the ringing in his ears, but he watched in wonderment as the stampeding herd quickly altered course.

When the last steer had disapeared into the vegitation, leaving only Hector's target behind, he turned to Darma. The man stood holding a pistol in his left hand. The adrienaline hit Hector all at once, he shook all over and it was all he could do to remain standing. Too much at once.

Seeing his shocked pupil, Darma explained, "every action has a reaction. You must be prepared to handle the consequences; always be aware of your surroundings. Less the hunter falls victim to his prey."

Darma then held the gun out to Hector, handle first. When Hector just looked up confused, he continued, "Go on, take it. May it protect you in times to come. For now, finish what you've started."

Hector took the gun being handed to him, and approached the downed animal. She was still alive, gurgling gasps came from both her mouth and from around the arrow shaft. Pink frothy bubbles spilled from her mouth. Hector pressed the gun point blank to her head.

He fired.

The arrow went clean though the deer's skull. He'd be bringing home food and medicine tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't Far Cry 3 or any of it's contents.
> 
> As you can see, for better or worse, there clearly is no portion controll here. Each chapter is one complete thought.

Citra and Hector lived out of a storage shed, although "shed" might be giving the building a bit too much credit. Sure it had four corners, but only two walls. A solid roof, though, and the walls ment that they had some protection from the wind. An undeniable step up from their little overhang. 

The Hector who had first washed up on the Rook Islands, a year ago, may have weeped when told he had to live there. The Hector now? The Hector that followed a strange man around pleading with him, to teach him how to kill? The Hector with calluses on his fingers from bow strings, not pencils? The Hector who rinsed blood off his hands on a regular basis, after skinning, and butching animals? The Hector that just spent an hour bartering and arguing with an adult, more than four times his age, because he didn't hesitate to try and take advantage of a kid who shouldn't habe to fully grasp the worth of fresh meat? That Hector? He was just happy to have a home.

Ajeng, an elderly woman who lived here in, Beras, owned the shed. She claimed to have once used it for storing clay pots, that she made herself, ment to be sold at market. Ever sense her hands started hurting too badly, and the last of her creations had found homes of their own, it had sat empty. She agreed that the two children could live there, so long as they would pay rent , in the form of bringing her herbs found around the islands.

When Hector first encountered Ajeng, he was scared of her. She was gaunt, like she had missed too many meals. She never seemed to hurry, but would always move quicker than he predicted. Her hands were gnarled and boney. Her voice was thin and raspy when she spoke, but peircing whenever she laughed. Hector was reminded of one of the stories his _mamá_ used to tell him. The story of two children, lured in by the promise of candy and sweets, only to be eaten by a witch. As time went by Hector's alarm eased. Ajeng never showed any signs of hostility, she mostly kept to herself, and the duo kept to their own. 

Still, on the rare mornings, when she would call out greetings to the pair, offering them bits of fruit, Hector never would accept. Citra insisted he was being rude. She would go to Ajeng making excuses for his behavior, as he continued on his way, and Ajeng's laugh would chase him the rest of the way out of town. If Citra thought pieces of lychee and mango were worth her life, that was her business. Maybe Hector should tell Citra the story of Hansel and Gretel.

Citra took care of gathering the herbs Ajeng requested. It didn't require her to travel too far from the town, and she was far more familliar with the local flora than he. She claimed to have learned many of the names from her mother; usually in the form of her mother yelling at her to stay away from them. However, when Hector recognized any of the flowers Ajeng requested while roaming about island, he would bring some back with him. Golden beehives and aloe were the ones Hector was most familiar with.

Hector had to pass by Ajeng's house on his way to the shed, so he stopped to leave the days collectings in a wicker basket that sat on her porch. With Citra sick, the gathering of herbs had fallen to him. The boy only hoped Citra got better before the old woman grew fed up with his repetitive deliveries.

Proceeding around the building, their shed came into view. The wood was worn by the heavy rains and strong winds of the islands. Only the back and left sides sported walls; the front and right remained open. Victims of time and wear, or a too small budget, the secret was one lost to the original builder. There wasn't really a floor to the shed, but the ground was bare of plants, flat, and hard packed from years of holding heavy objects.Hector had maneuvered some empty, rotted crates along the front. They wouldn't keep anything out, but they would hide anyone laying down within.

When Hector rounded the crates he was both relieved and troubled to find Citra hadn't moved. She was still bundled up, covered in the threadbare blankets Hector had traded for, pressed into the corner. Closer inspection revealed that she hadn't touched any of the bread he had left her either.

"Citra," Hector called across, from where he was depositing the rest of the days bounty: a leather bag of the remaining venison, a pouch of rice, and a couple of carrots. All went into a lidded basket. At the bottom was a solid layer of Indonesian laurels. Hector thought they made all the food they stored there taste weird. Citra insisted they kept the bugs away, and as no bugs had yet attempted to get into the basket, he was inclined to believe her.

No responce came from the slumbering girl. Hector took the last item with him across their shared space: a bottle that he couldn't read but the trader insisted would help with a fever. 

"Citra," the boy tried again, gently laying a hand on her forehead, "Citra?"

Hector whistled long and slow. She felt like she was burning up. He would need to bring her more water, dehydration was a surprsingly real threat in a place with so much water.

" _Princesita_ ," he tried, using her pet name. She hated it, of course, more so when she found out what it ment. She was not some spoiled girl living in an ivory tower, yet whenever he called her that, he would still sometimes catch a glimpse of her shy smile. "You need to get up. I brought you medicine from the market."

The boy nudged her, only earning a sigh. Hector tenderly started to sit her up. If he had any hope of her taking the medication, she needed to be upright to do it. Just before she was all the way sitting up Citra's eyes flew open; she started to scream and thrash about.

" _Tidak! Ibu! Menjauh dari saya_!"

Hector almost dropped her in his supprise. Then did, when Citra's aimless flailing managed to land a solid hit to his jaw. Hissing he watched her continue to thrash about. He had no idea what she was wailing about, and wasn't entirely sure if it was another language, or utter gibberish. It sounded vaguely familiar, maybe he had heard it around the island before.

Hector felt helpless. Citra had more or less stettled down into a litany of, " _Silahkan, silahkan, silahkan_!" She appeared to be crying too. Hector had no idea what to do.

"What is all this noise about?" came a raspy hiss from behind.

Whirling around, Hector found Ajeng scowling back at him. Oh, this wasn't good at all! No way was he letting the witch take Citra!

"Boy, what did you do to your sister?" the old woman pushed passed Hector.

"Hey, wait! I didn't- She not-" Hector wasn't able to get out much in the way of protest, before Ajeng was next to Citra, with the back of her hand pressed to her forehead.

"She has a terrible temperature." Ajeng stated, more commenting to herself than Hector.

"I know that! That's why I brought her this."

Ajeng snatched the bottle from his outstretched hand, read it, then, snorting, tossed it to the side. 

"Hey!"

"Garbage," she proclaimed. "I have just the thing for her inside."

Well, now that stung. Hector had worked hard to get that medicine, and her this witch was throwing his things around.

Hector watched, with no small amount of satisfaction, as Citra resumed her screaming whenever Ajeng went to lift her. He immidiately felt guilty, Citra was clearly distressed, but at least it wasn't just him.

" _Tidak! Silahkan, mau tinggal_!"

Ajeng wore a perplexed look as she stared down at the sobbing girl. Another language then.

"How long has she been like this?" it was the first, Hector felt, the woman actually wanted his input.

"She's been running a fever for three days. This is the first I've seen her acting this way."

After another wary glance at Citra, Ajeng adressed Hector once more, "I'm going to need your help moving her. We must be quick, or she's going to wake the whole village."

Hector didn't like this. He didn't want Ajeng involved at all, much less trying take Citra away, into her home. However, Hector had promised himself that he would look after her. If the medication he had bartered for at market really was no good, and he would in no way put it past the smarmy vendor, and if their neighbor really could help, he couldn't, in good conscience, stop her.

"Okay," he apprehensivly agreed.

Hector and Ajeng ended up bundling Citra back up in their blankets, kicking and screaming, and carring her into Ajeng's house. The elderly woman was stronger than Hector had expected, lifting more than her fair share of their shreeking parcel. Both where out of breathe by the time they had transfered Citra to Ajeng's pallet.

Hector had never been inside Ajeng's home before. It was small and what a kinder eye might have called cozy, but Hector was just inclined to call crampt. The pallet Citra currently rested upon was shoved against the wall nearest the door, not more than a foot or so above the ground. Stretching along the same wall as the door, was a counter covered in bowls and jars. More jars lay nestled on a series of wooden shelves above the counter. A small table was pushed parallel to the counter, with barely enough room for an adult to squeeze through. A pair of rickety chairs sat flanking it. Herbs and plants hung from racks all around the room, even above the makeshift bed. A small fireplace was in the far wall, the only aspect of the building that demanded empty space around it. Crampt or not, the house, which was really more of a room, gave off a feel of warmth.

By the time Hector had finished his inspection of the home, Ajeng had gotten up, and made her way to the aforementioned fireplace. Hanging above it was a pot, Ajeng stirred something inside, before ladeling out a portion into a wooden bowl.

"Good thing this old woman doesn't eat as much as she used to," Ajeng muttered to herself.

The witch came bustling back over to the pair, carrying the bowl.

"Here, try to get her to drink as much of this as you can," she pushed the bowl into Hector's hands.

"What is it?" Hector asked, eyeing the brown liquid skeptically.

"Bone broth," the woman grunted, making her way over to the counter and a stone mortar and pestle. Hector's _abuela_ used to make broth for him, whenever he got sick. He didn't trust this old woman, but he did trust his _abuela_. The broth would be acceptable to give to Citra.

Hector turned back to the sick girl, she seemed to have calmed down. She wasn't speaking in her strange lagauge or crying anymore, she had mostly settled on shivering. Ajeng hadn't given him a spoon to accompany the bowl, so Hector tried lifting the bowl to her lips. At this angle he was just going to spill it all over her face. Looking around, Hector found some extra blankets folded next to the bed. He balled one up and carefully maneuvered it to prop up her head.

Once again the youth brought the edge of the bowl to Citra lips. What ever delirious state she had been in before seemed to have passed, now she lay weakly against her provisional pillow. Unresisting she allowed Hector to gently open her mouth, and pour some of the warm liquid in. 

Hector clucked at her, as most of it came running back out, down her chin. Wiping up the spill with a corner of her blanket, Hector tried again, "Come on, _Princesita_ , you need to drink."

Citra swallowed a little on the second pour. Seeming to realize how famished she was, she consumed all of the next.

"Careful, you don't want to-" 

Ajeng was cut off by a loud pounding at her door. The force was uncalled for, the door was little more than a flimsy peice of wood, and it shuddered in it's hinges with each knock. Citra flinched away, withdrawing back into her coma like shell. Seeing her fear enraged Hector. Who dare frighten his _Princesita_?

Ajeng sedately cleaned her hands on a rag before making her way to the door. The banging had already restarted before she opened it. 

On the other side of the threshold stood two burly, men. One bald and slightly taller than the other, who had close cropped black hair. Both were dressed in the khaki uniform of the Rook Islands Police. _La chota_.

"And what reason might two officers have for disturbing an old woman this late at night?" Ajeng questioned. Her voice may have been thin, but it held steel.

"We've heard reports of screaming coming from this house." Baldy accused, "We've come by to make sure there was no trouble."

The tone of his voice made Hector wonder if he hadn't come over to start some of his own.

"Well as you can see, the situation has been handled, please be on your way." Ajeng's voice was frosty, she clearly held no love for Rook's "law enforcement". 

For that matter no one Hector had met did. Rook Island's police were a farce. The island had no real laws and very little government. They were released onto the island when the mining lords had come to Rook, as a way of protecting their intrests from the percieved threat of the natives. The police were the private military of these business magnates, who only job was to enforce the whims of their patrons.

As the nickle mines dried up the miners left; all but a few. Noah Ward was a large, dark skinned man, from Australia, who came here along with all the others of his ilk. Noah had remained even as the mines dried up. He singularly controlled _la chota_ , and fancied himself the president of Rook now.The police largely ran rampant over the islands now, like an invasive species. They torment the locals, and were known to drag people off into the night.

"You wouldn't mind if we came in, to make sure everyone's alright, would you." It wasn't a question, and Baldy had already shoved his way in. His partner followed quickly behind, stopping in front of Ajeng, blocking her from moving further into the house.

Baldy took a passing glance at the rest of the building before stopping on Hector and Citra. Hector had placed the bowl of broth on the ground, and was doing his best to stand between Citra's limp form and the man, who must have towered the better part of two and a half feet over him.

"And who's this? Not the source of all the sheeking I'd hope." The man leered down at Hector. The boy did his best to match him dirty look, for dirty look.

"My grandson," Ajeng claimed. The youth hadn't expected that, for all that there was no love lost between the police and the locals, not too many dared to stand up to _la chota_ either. Hector's suprise caused him to jump breaking eye contact. The _pendejo_ won this round. 

Baldy's smile just grew, "And the girl?"

Hector didn't like this man. AT ALL.

In a moment of inspiration, remembering Ajeng's words from earlier, Hector answered, "My sister." The youth may have lost their staring contest, but like hell he was letting this _cabrón_ anywhere near his Citra.

"And just how is a woman, so up in her years, able to support two young children?" Baldy never glanced away. "If such burdens should become, too much, you know the President is always looking for new workers for his mines. You would be compensated of course."

_Pendejo_.

"Thank you for your concern, but they're no trouble at all. They're quite self-sufficient," Ajeng's voice betrayed her growing irritation. "If Ward is in such desperate need for miners, surely strong men such as your selves would be better suited to the task, than children?"

A snarl breifly crossed his face, "I'm sorry, _nenek_ , are we bothering you?" Baldy's attention had swung to Ajeng now. Hector could feel it's absence, like a physical thing.

"Ajeng, are these men bothering you?" a voice parroted from the still open doorway.

Darma stood, filling the enteryway. Baldy's partner, who Hector had yet to come up with a name for, as there was nothing particularly remarkable about him other than his lack of remarkableness, seemed to grow agitated by the arrival of the other man. They had come to terrorized children and old women, not weapon weilding warriors. Hector tried to send subtle looks of pleading Darma's way, which really weren't all that subtle. More like wide eyed looks that screamed "HELP!"

"Not at all. These kind men had come by to check on us, when they heard young Citra's screaming. I believe they were just on their way out," Ajeng calmly answered from her position of being overtly dominated.

Baldy looked put out. He had two options at this point: leave, like the old woman had suggested, or start a confrontation with the hunter as well. And Darma didn't promise to be nearly so easy of prey.

"Yes, as the _nenek_ says, we were just leaving," Baldy made his way back to the door, his fidgety partner close behind. "Keep our offer in mind, would you?" He called back as he continued down the steps.

Darma turned back to the group, eyebrow raised. Hector had fallen to a sitting position at Citra's side. Relief made his knees weak, and a sudden wave of tiredness washed over him. It had been a long day. Ajeng had already wandered back to her mortar, and had picked up where she left off, mashing herbs together.

"Thank you, Darma," Hector spoke up.

"Are you okay?" 

"Yes, yes," Ajeng waves off his concern, walking back over to Hector carrying the mortar. "Here, add this too the broth, this will help bring down the young lady's fever."

Hector quickly grabbed the bowl from the floor, and held it up for Ajeng. Whatever mistrust he held had been forgotten after her display of solidarity. She dumped the contents into the soup, and gave it a quick stir with her pestle.

"There, try that."

Hector went back to his task of feeding Citra as the adults finished talking.

"Do not worry so much, Darma. The child is correct, though, thank you. Noah's goons are getting bold," Ajeng adressed the hunter.

Darma nodded, "I came to check on you when I saw one of their trucks parked out front."

"Now, Darma, what is a man like you doing out and about at a time like this? Not bothering a nice lady friend I trust," Ajeng's tone had taken on a teasing quality.

"Ajeng," Darma sighed sounding put upon.

Hector tuned them out, focusing on Citra. She had finished the last of the broth, and was settling into a deep sleep.

"Feel better, _Princesita_ ," the boy urged. 

It was late and Hector was very tired. One stressful event had seemed to lead right into the next. He could feel his eyes starting to droop, lulled by the sound of the bickering adults. It wasn't long before he had fallen asleep next to his Citra.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Far Cry 3 or any of it's contents

Hector's _tío_ stood on the beach, he looked exactly like Hecto remembered. His close buzzed hair, and sun darkened skin. Ramón wore a clean, blue, button up shirt, pressed, white Burmuda shorts, dock shoes, and, what were probably knock off, Ray Bans.

Hector wanted to weep. He hadn't seen his uncle in over a year. Ramón helped out his _papá_ , Ramón's brother, with his fishing tours. He used to take Hector to the swap meet to get churros every Saturday, and would spend the rest of the day playing football with him, or just chasing the ball down the beach. It was so good to see him. To see a peice of home, after all this time.

Hector first became aware of the fact he was dreaming, when he couldn't figure out how his _tío_ had gotten to the island. There was no boat, plane, or helicoptor. Not that he could have afforded to bring any of those things, to come looking for Hector. This didn't stop the boy from running toward his uncle anyway. He would have given anything to hug Ramón again. Even if it was only here, on a beach of his own imagining.

Just before Hector had reached the sand, Ramón seemed to notice him. The youth smiled big and waved like crazy. Something was wrong though, Ramón was staring right at him, but he looked bewildered, he didn't know Hector. 

How could he not remember him? It had only been a year, he had known Ramón his whole life.

The boy looked down at himself. He hadn't grown that much, maybe an inch or two. He knew his hair was longer than he used to keep it, turns out, there aren't too many barbers on Rook. A sure, he never used to wear clothes like these, he'd always run around in bold colors, t-shirts with cartoon characters, and sneakers that lit up with each step. Hector liked to dress as loud and bright as he was himself. Now he wore a faded blue shirt and brown cargo shorts. He had traded out his red, t-rex shirt and yellow shorts, for the more muted colors, not long after reaching the islands. Loud and bright was not a good thing for a hunter to be. Both articles had seen mileage, they were dusted in dirt and sand.

Hector reached up to brush off his shirt, and noticed he had blood under his fingernails. He couldn't tear his eyes away from them. Bloody nails and Ramón didn't belong to the same Hector.

As he watched the blood seemed to ooze out and trickle down his fingers. Hector started to panic, Ramón was going to see, and then he'd leave! He'd see and know that Hector was a fraud! The boy knew there was no physical way so much blood could be comming from under his nails, but it continued to travel down onto his hands. No, no, no, no!

When Hector looked back up Ramón was walking away, further down the beach. Hector started to run after him, he just had to explain, and his _tío_ would understand, he always understood. No matter how hard he ran, though, his _tío_ never got any closer. 

The boy wanted nothing more than to hold his uncle. For just the moment, forget that they were lost somewhere in the Pacific ocean, and pretend they were back home.

Hector knew this was just a stupid dream, HE KNEW, but that didn't stop him from crying. Even here, in his own mind, the boy wasn't afforded such simple comforts. Hector stopped trying to catch up and huddled down on himself, covering his head with his red soaked hands.

Hector just wanted to wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up. WAKE UP!

Hecror jolted alert. He didn't recognize his surroundings at first. A glance around revealed that he was in Ajeng's home.

That's right, he had fallen asleep watching Citra. He lay draped across the foot of Ajeng's little pallet, his lower body seated on the floor.

Sleep still hung heavy in the air of the small home. All the lights were out and the fireplace was down to smoldering embers. The ambient light seeping through the cracks in the walls indicated the rise of the sun, as did the beginnings of bird song lifting into the air. Inside the building, Hector was able to ignore it for longer than he would have been able to in the shed, where the sunlight would come streaming right through the wall less east side of their home. Ajeng was lightly snoring from her perch in one of the wooden chairs. Hector could feel Citra's legs underneath his head.

He didn't want to get up, he knew the moment he did, the stitch in his side, from sleeping in his position, would make itself known. That the taste in his mouth would begin to drive him nuts. Once he got up, he would be expected to do things, and that seemed like far too much effort right then. He hadn't had a lazy morning in forever.

Hector felt movement in the bed, and looked up towards Citra. She was smiling down at him gently.

" _Selamat pagi_ ," Citra whispered her usual greeting. That brought a smile to his face. 

"Hey," he rasped back. He made a face, yep, his mouth tasted horrendous. Citra's smile grew, and it was worth it. 

"You're feeling better then?" Hector kept his voice low, he didn't want to ruin the tenor of the morning. Nor did he want Ajeng up, chasing them out of her house yet.

Citra's eyes fluttered shut, then opened once more. "Better," she confirmed squeezing his hand. He hadn't even noticed that he was holding it until that moment.

He flushed, but didn't pull away, it would have been rude, and he didn't really want to anyway.

"Hector?" Citra sounded suddenly insistent.

"Yeah?"

"Where are we?"

Hector almost didn't stop the laugh in time, his relief was making him giddy "Ajeng's house," he answered bluntly, just to see the look on her face.

Incredulous. It was incredulous.

"She said she could help; I was worried about you," Hector admitted. "You got really bad thre for a while."

"I am sorry for worring you," she seemed to relax, taking him at face value.

"Yeah. For a bit there, I thought you were speaking in tongues," Hector tried for humor.

Citra smiled at his antics, she didn't always know what the boy was on about, but would indulge him anyway. 

"Did I?" she asked amuzed.

"Mmm hmm," Hector hummed. "You were talking in that other language, but it just sounded like _algarabía_ to me."

"What?" she giggled, "What kind of word is that?"

"It's true! You said something about 'mou tingger' or something."

She flinched.

"Citra?" he asked raising his head, if she was in pain he would do whatever he could to help.

She gave him a smile, though this one looked forced. " _Mau tinggal_ ," she clairified. "I want to stay," she whispered as an after thought.

"Citra?" he tried again. He was missing something, and he wanted to help.

Her smile looked broken. "You have told me so much about where you've come from, Hector. You have told me about your parents, about your school. You told me about your favorite television shows, and all your friends. I do not think I have told you about my home."

What an odd thing to say, the islands were Citra's home. There's no way she had come here like him, planes didn't crash that often. And he was sure he had heard her speaking to some of the locals in their own language.

His confusion must have shown, "I am not from Beras Town. I come from another town further west. I came here after I lost my home." 

Oh...

"What happened?" Hector regretted it the moment after he asked. Nothing good. She certainly hadn't been living by herself when he found her, because she liked being hungery and alone.

Citra was quiet for a long moment.

" _Ibu_ and I lived there sense I could remember. _Bapak_ had died before I had been born," Citra looked miles away. Hector could only assume these people were her parents. Odd to call them by name, perhaps this was more of her own language? "We only really had eachother. _Ibu_ had a sister who lived with her husband on the south island, but we never saw them... My aunt and uncle."

Citra had trailed off into a grim silence.

Hector wanted to stop her. She didn't have to tell him anything! He didn't want her to be upset. He only told her so much about home, because he never was capable of being silent for too long. He only really ever was quiet when he was asleep or stalking prey, and even then he would use his fingertips to silently tap out a rythm on his bow. During the long nights, when he would be waiting for sleep to claim him, the words would just come tumbling out of him. Citra didn't owe him any kind of explination.

Hector squeezed her hand and told her as much.

"No. I want you to know," she imparted, "someone should know. I would like for it to be you."

Hector nodded his assent. If she wanted to talk about something so clearly painful, who was he to stop her?

" _Ibu_ had gotten sick, we had been outside for a long while in the rain the day before. It was unusual, we had been caught in the rain before, but this time _Ibu_ stayed in bed caughing all the next day and the day after that. I remember thinking about how hungery I was, and that I really did not want to eat old bread again. I felt helpless too, I wanted to help her I just did not know how." Hector could relate. 

She looked so serious, so much more mature than a five year old should. Usually when Citra acted mature it annoyed Hector, what did she know? But now? This was different. She looked like this when Hector had first found her under that protruding roof. Hollow eyes, and solemn expression, Hector thought she had looked like _el Sacomán_ had drained all the life from her. Like there was nothing left in all the world for her. Her joy was gone.

"It only got worse... She was so frail at the end," it was the first real emotion to enter her voice thoughout the whole story so far, Citra sounded heartbroken. "She wanted to live so badly, not for herself, I think, but for me. She only ever kept talking about how I should not worry, she was going to look out for me, that I would not be alone. That someone would come look after me." Silent tears ran down her face, juxtaposed from last night. "I did not want someone to come for me, I wanted my mother. Without her, there was nothing for me."

Hector didn't know what to say. He remembered how he felt, when he first woke on Rook's beaches. He had felt like the world was collapsing, and he was the only one who seemed to notice. Hector's grief was much like the rest of him, loud, passionate, and lurid. He sat on the beach, for hours, screaming, crying, and lashing out at the sand. He had raged, mourning his parents, under the watchful eye of Bethari, the only person who seemed to acknowledge his grief, if not take part. The kind woman turned out to be one of the workers from Beras's rice paddies, and Hector had followed quietly, hollowly, after her as they left the beach. Things that burn so bright cannot last long. Hector still missed his parents a great deal, but he no longer stayed up crying at night, like he did that first month. Citra's pain was a slow, simmering thing.

"Why come here to Beras? Why not stay home, where you grew up?" Hector asked.

The tears continued to fall, but her voice was once again devoid of life,"When my aunt and uncle heard about _Ibu's_ death they came to our house. I think I was still too sad to really absorb their presence. They came and started to move in their things. They said that, they did not really have a place of their own back on the south island, that they just drifted from town to town. They said that they too were going to miss _Ibu_ , but were happy that they could finally settle down. They said they were going to finally have a real family. They were so, so... happy!" Citra had really worked herself up by this point. "I did not know what to do. All I wanted was to mourn my mother's death, and all these _penyusup_ wanted was start a new life on top of ours! When it had not yet even finished ending!" Citra spat.

Hector was appalled. He couldn't imagine Uncle Ramón ever acting that way. 

He felt a little nauseous at the thought of his _tío_. He couldn't pinpoint why. Everytime he thought too hard about it, the answer would flit away from him.

Citra lay breathing heavily, and Hector wondered if this wasn't a bad idea. She had just been sick the day before. Delirious, when she wasn't laying weak as a kitten. She should probably be relaxing, not dredging up horrible memories. Citra had asked him to listen though.

Citra drew in a harsh breath before continuing, "They were so excited to start their new family, and I just wanted them gone. They wanted their new life, and I was in their way. A reminder of the last people to live there, a relic of a dead family. They asked me to leave, they asked me to leave on my own or they would force me." She shuddered, weither from revulsion, sick, or cold the boy didn't know, and wouldn't blame her for any combination of the three.

"So I left," she said succintly. "In the end, we all got what we wanted. They got their stupid building, and I got to get away from them."

"Citra I..." don't really know what to say. "I'm sorry." Hector finished lamely.

"It will be okay, Hector. There was nothing for me there anymore, not really."

"Memories, they took away the place with all the memories of your mom," Hector defended. What he was defending, he wasn't sure, but he didn't like the way she had just given up.

"My memories are here," she held a hand to her head, "and here." The hand lowered to her heart. "Besides in the end someone did come for me. He just was not nearly so helpful as _Ibu_ had been expecting," Citra finished with a pinch to his arm.

"Hey!" he whined.

His _Princesita_ was brave. In her position, Hector didn't know what he would have done. Gone to his _abuela's_ he supposed, but Citra hadn't had that option. It made Hector wonder what drew her to Beras. He, however, wasn't interested in poking any more tender areas, and was more than willing to change the conversation. And he thought he knew just the thing to cheer her mood.

"You know, Ajeng says we're like family," Hector indecated the two of them.

"Odd," the woman in question commented. "I recall making no such statement," Ajeng was awake, staring at the two children.

Hector jumped at the sound of her voice. He hadn't been expecting her to wake up, which, concidering how much noise they'd been making, was just silly.

Citra was watching the two carfully. Considering Hector's attitude towards Ajeng, as of the last time she had been fully aware, him casually mentioning the old woman, in any manner, other than, perhaps, blaming her the cause of a sudden squall, seemed oddly bizzare. She was delighted to see that the two were getting along, or, at least, talking to eachother. She was actually very fond of Ajeng, herself.

"Yeah-huh," Hector argued, he was just glad Citra was smiling again. "You called her my sister last night!"

"Hah! I believe that was you dear boy," Ajeng antagonized. She was smiling herself.

"Hector, you called me your sister? Should I be calling you _Abang_? " Citra joined in the hijinks.

"Only after Ajeng said it first!" He wasn't upset, not really, but he was more than willing to act rediculous if it would keep that happy look on Citra's face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Far Cry 3 or any of it's content.
> 
> Edit: Italicized all the words in other languages

"Will you pass me the knife, _Princesita_?"

Citra had been feeling better for a couple of weeks now. She had stayed with Ajeng for another night, to make sure she wouldn't relapse, then moved back out to the shed with Hector. Ajeng said, that she enjoyed having the company of the two young ones, but she had grown too old to sleep in chairs anymore.

It was back to business as usual, for Hector. He woke up each morning, just as the sun crested the water, and would wade out into the ocean, to wash off the blood, sweat, and dirt from the day before. The cool water always helped to chase the last vestiges of sleep from his mind. He'd brush his teeth with sand from the beach. Then lay out to bask in rising sun on his favorite rock, a particularly large bolder not far from the water.

Hector used to hate brushing his teeth, back home, but now he might just kill for a tooth brush and some tooth paste. In fact, Hector would have to see about bartering for a pair the next time he made it to Badtown. If the vendor wasn't interested in fresh meat, he had saved up some cash from selling pelts. Game was just easier, he knew where the hunting was good, but not all merchants, especially ones in small towns like Beras, dealed in cash money.

After his _rutin de la mañana_ , Hector would head back to the shed to wake up Citra. He would cube some fruit for breakfast, while she went and did whatever it was girls did in the morning. After they ate, they would head out of Beras together. One big change to his schedule, whenever Ajeng did call out to them in the mornings, Hector would go over, alongside Citra, to chat.

Even though Hector kept an eye out, he saw no further sign of Baldy, or his lickspittle lacky. And good ridance. Beras was too small for any sort of regular "policing".

Hector didn't always leave town to hunt. They didn't eat that much, nor would the jungle around Beras be able to support them if they did. On his "days off" , Hector would find Darma and acompany his mentor, either on a hunt of his own or simpling tracking the local fauna. It helped Hector to keep his skills sharp, and allowed him to become familiar with more of the island. The man never complained when the boy would show up next to him, he would just nod and give a few pointers on how to move more noislessly through the ferns. Darma was knowlegeable about a number of things, to become a part of your surroundings, you needed to understand them. He would share this understanding with the young boy. Hector always returned excited to use the new information on his next solo trip.

At first, the youth had been apprehensive, before going out on a hunt. His heart would race, his breathing became rapid, 'what if's would swarm the boys head like sharks to chum. He felt like a kid that had been given a bow and wished the best of luck. Like maybe one of the goats, that roamed Rook, was going to turn around and declare him for the fraud he was. As time passed, and he rose to meet each challenge as it was presented to him, however, Hector came to enjoy the chase. Figuratively of course, any actual chasing was a sign of a poor hunter. It wasn't just the act, either. Stalking prey with Darma was all fine and good, but there was something infinently satisfying about the kill at the end of a successful hunt. It was proof that he was able to survive and thrive, in his new enviroment. As if, with each animal he brought down, he was less of the scared boy, and more a part of the islands themselves. 

It was freeing, liberating, but intimidating. Each step he took towards intigrating into Rook, was another step away from Veracruz. Every time he adapted more to this place, the prospect of returning home seemed less and less likey. He wanted to be a part of this place, a functioning cog in the mechine, not a hanger-on that survived off the good graces, meger though they were, of those around him... But he also wished to see his _abuela_ again, to play games with Enrique. He felt torn.

Citra was his constant. She was his priority. His internal struggles came after his ability to provide for her, which, convenietly, provided for him as well. It was a consolation to Hector, after all, what kind of monster would leave a young girl to starve? It would be selfish of him to stop now, just for the chance to see his old home again. In the interm, he would just keep getting better at what he was doing. Keep becoming more a part of this place. And maybe NOT, occasionally, spend half the day following the blood trail of a mortally wounded deer, all across Rook.

Citra still collected plants from around Beras for Ajeng, but now she would stay after her delivery to help out around the old woman's house. The girl claimed that, when Ajeng found out that she already knew one end of goat's foot from the other, she had insisted Citra help her in making the latest batch of jellyfish ointment. While Hector wasn't sure what the lower appendage of a four legged herbivore had to do with medicine, Citra seemed to be happy, and that was good enough for him. She was also thrilled that the old witch had promised to teach Citra more about Rook's plantlife.

The children had taken to eating dinner with their landlady. Hector would bring over food stuffs, whenever he got back, and they would all fix dinner together. The boy would take care of preparing any meat, or helping to cut up vegitables, while the two females squabbled over which seasoning would taste best, or if the carrots should be added now or in another three minutes. The two had really started to grow close now that they spent so much time together, all evidence to the contrary. Hector would never take sides, at least not out loud, but he prefered Ajeng's cooking. She liked to use strong, bold spices that reminded Hector of home, where Citra prefered sweet flavors.

And so their days went, without much real variation.

Tonight was one such night, and Hector was preparing to cut into a jackfruit, for their curry.

"Why do you insist on calling me that?" Citra asked, handing him the requested blade. "You know where I have come from; I am nothing like a princess."

She had gotten like that not long after telling Hector about her past, as if the actions of her relatives would in some way make him think less of her. Ridiculous.

Hector sent a quick thanks to his cousin. He used to hate when she came over, she would demand on watching stupid girl movies all day, and his _mamá_ insisted that he needed to be nice and share the TV. That wasn't sharing, that was forfeiting any say whatsoever! It was one of the reasons he had been so enthusiastic about the Aladin movie, that was coming out, that was already out now he'd imagine, he actually wanted to see it, and it had one of Francisca's princesses in it.

"Actually, I think you are," his proclaimed, his gaze sliding slyly towards Citra. Hector had taken to telling Citra stories, from back home, before they fell asleep each night. At first it had helped him to forget where he was, to drown out the noise of the alien wildlife moving freely, just outside their shed.The stories, real or fabled, had become a part of their nightly routine. He was never particularly subdued, but he became even more animated when telling one of his tales; gesturing with his whole body, and adding in his own sound effects. Recognizing this change in his demeanor, Citra mentally settled in.

"Did I ever tell you the story of 'Snow White and the Seven Dwafs'?" Hector asked rhetorically, as he sliced into the fruit.

\-----------------------

" _Konyol_ ," Ajeng proclaimed, from where they all sat around her little table. The elderly woman had found a stool, from somewhere, for Hector after their group dinners became procedure. They had finished eating a small while ago. "There's no way a kiss, 'true love' or no, brought that girl back from the dead."

"She wasn't dead, she was under a spell," the boy defended weakly. He didn't much care for the ending himself.

"Well, I thought it was a nice story," Citra told him. 

She had smiled throughout most of it, and that had been his real goal. Not all princesses lived in castles, some even lived in small homes, and cooked meals over a fireplace. He was glad she had enjoyed it, even if he had spent more time, than strictly necessary, describing the monsters Snow White had seen in the trees, and the dugeons of the evil, witch queen. They were the parts of the movie that had stuck with him most.

"Bah," Ajeng threw her hands up, ruining what little the girl's comment had done to improve his mood.

"Fine, let's hear YOUR story then," Hector huffed. He was a great story teller, it wasn't his fault it all ended with girly nonsense. If Ajeng was going to be like that, she could tell her own stories!

"Hmm," she leaned back in her chair, actually taking his comment into consideration. Hector was still miffed, but Citra seemed excited by the idea of two stories in one night.

"I think the story of the Lotus Pond would be acceptable," Ajeng determined. The boy already didn't like where this was going.

The young girl brightened up though, "Oh! My _ibu_ used to tell me this story!" It was, apparently, a favorite.

"Indeed, all Rakyat are told the story," the woman told Citra fondly.

"Rakyat?" Hector tried to clarify, the unfamiliar word gaining his unwilling intrest.

"Hush," Ajeng scolded, earning her a scowl, "we have not yet reached that part of the story."

"You haven't started the story at all!" the boy groused. Quieting after another hush, and a dirty look from Citra. He settled in; this had better be good.

"Once, long ago, there was a lotus pond. It was filled with crystal water, and the finest of white sands lined it's shores. Countless blossoms broke the water's surface, in all manner of riotous color.

"The pond was valued, by the nearby town, for it's beauty, but more so for it's purity. You see, their country has been at war with itself for some time. Brother turned on brother, mothers strangled their infants, and fathers raped their daughters. Fields had been salted, homes had been burned, and their rivers all ran red with the bloated bodies of their neighbors."

Hector took it back, he clearly hadn't put enough detail into the dungeon. Citra's mother used to tell her this story?

"The people of the nearby town had sustained themselves off of the small streams that came trickling from the pond. The water was clean and untouched by the poison that floated in their rivers, for it sprang forth from beneath the surface, much like the blooms. The towns people fought for control of these streams, and gradually the rot contaminated them as well. 

"The people, in their great desperation approached the pond itself. They did not wish to disturb the sacred lotus blossoms, but had no other recourse. As they drew close, a mighty giant rose up from the waters and slaughtered every last one of them. Only returning beneath the surface, after all traces of the towns people had been removed."

Hector had been completely drawn into the story now, and listened with rapt attention. Citra, however, had started to fade. She still listened, but the boy could see her tell tale signs for encroaching sleep.

"Word of the lotus pond reached the king of this land, who sent forth many of his men, to bring him back it's clean water. Each man he sent was great and fierce, but none ever returned. He then sent forth a plea, that should any strong warrior bring down the giant, he would be rewarded richly.

"One such warrior, hailing from the north, hearing of the peoples plight, came to their land. He was not drawn by the glimmer of fortune, but by the suffering of the population. When he arrived and saw the state of the land, he was horrified. The nation suffered from so much more than this giant.

"The warrior wanted to do what he could for the people though, so he painted his body with the tatau, that he may draw strength and wisdom from his ancestors. As he approached the pond, the scent of lotus blossoms reached his nose. It was the first breath, free of the stench of rot and decay, he had breathed since coming to the country. When he stood before the waters no giant came forth to fight him, like he had been warned. The water's surface was broken by nothing more than the blooms that for which the pond was named. Even as he reached down, and drank from it's depths. 

"The warrior was baffled, how was he to fight an enemy that would not appear? He took a wineskin of the clear water with him, as he made his way back to the king. The king however, was not satisfied with this. He wanted the giant dead, for daring to live in his lotus pond, and for killing his men. The king was going to be his full might against this monster.

"The warrior made his way, once more, to the pond. And this time the giant did, indeed, greet him, but still did not attack. 

"'Why do you aid these people?' the giant asked in his booming voice.

"The warrior answered honestly, 'Because they are in need. Why do you kill those who try to drink from the pond?'

"'I do not, the deer often come here to drink. Everyday, for a year, a small child made her way to these waters for sustenance, before the girl's defiled body was used to poison one of my streams. You came here they day before, and I did not lift a hand to stop you.'

"'But why?' the warrior asked

"'Because you carry no ill will for this place.'

"'And all those other people did?'

"'Look around you human, I am not responsible for the suffering you see. Only the protection of this pond,' the giant urged.

"'The king is on his way here, now,' the warrior divulged.

"'Then he too, I shall remove from my shores,' came his responce.

"For all the suffering he saw, the horrors he witnessed, the warrior could not turn his back on the people. 'Then I must stop you.'

"The warrior raised his blade to the giant, and cut his head from his shoulders."

"But wait!" Hector interrupted. "The king! He's coming! He will destroy the lotus pond too!" 

"And so he did," Ajeng answered, sagely.

"What kind of story is this?" the boy protested. "Things just went from bad to worse."

"And what would you have done? Would you have left the nation to die?" the old woman asked. 

Hector stopped, and really thought about the dilemma, before giving his answer. "But they died anyway," Hector grumbled. "The last of the water was poisoned, and everyone died."

A glance to his side revieled that Citra had lost her fight too, and lay sleeping with her head cradled in her arms. Sometimes it was easy to forget how young she was.

"I did not say that," Ajeng chided.

"You just said the king ruined the water!" the youth argued.

"Yes, but the warrior created a new land, for all of the men and women. A land untouched by the depravity of the old. From the giants head, the warrior crafted the Rook islands, to be a paradise, but also a test. A second chance for the people to prove themselves.

Hector didn't like it. It seemed cheap, the people had willfully destroyed their home, and now they were just given a new one. Just 'cause someone had come along to magically fix all their problems. That wasn't any better than a necromantic kiss of love.

Disregarding the boy's sour look Ajeng continued, "The desendants of that long ago nation live here on Rook, today. And the desendants of the warrior are the Rakyat tribe. All Rakyat children are told this story, as a cautionary tale, lest the islands become as corrupt as the land our ancestors hailed from."

"So, Citra's supposed to be the great great grandkid of this warrior?" 

"That is correct," the elder confirmed. "Not all Rakyat are born into the tribe. Outsiders have been known to be admited, under exceptional circumstances, but to become Rakyat, is to leave one's old life behind. The new members would then be considered spiritual decendants of the warrior as well. Citra, Darma and myself are all Rakyat."

It was a lot to absorb. All three of the induviduals, Hector had come to interact, spend time with, and trust, since coming to Rook, were Rakyat. He supposed nothing had truly changed, but it added a new layer of perspective to all his interactions.

It had gotten very late by this point. There would be plenty of time tomorrow, to think on the story and this new revelation. 

The boy carried Citra's limp form with him back to their shed, a feat he would have been incapable of back home. She did not rouse, only snuggled closer to Hector warmth with a content sigh. Leech. He smiled anyway.

Hector dreamed of enormous giants, rivers of blood, and misguided heros that night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Far Cry 3 or any of it's contents.

The two children sat perched on Hector's bolder. Citra was brushing out the youth's hair. The faded yellow, plastic hairbrush was one of the only posessions the girl had owned when Hector first met her. The scissors, that sat next to her, were newer.

He could fall asleep, just like this. The sun shone down warm, and ever present in the cloudless sky.The light breeze coming off the water tousled his clothes on it's way past, providing cool relief, keeping "warm" from becoming "hot". Even back in Veracruz, the sound of ocean waves crashing was a familar and constant companion. Gulls could be heard a ways off, their shrieks a sharp counter point to the rolling of the surf.

The gentle tug of the brushes plastic teeth, made another pass along his scalp and through his hair. Hector sighed in pleasure.

A giggle from behind him.

"Yes, _Princesita_?" the boy drawled, loathed to open his eyes.

"Nothing, _Abang_ ," the younger girl appeased. "You remind me of a cat," she confessed.

"Is that a bad thing?" he murmered contently. 

Hector tried to cut his hair every couple of months. Otherwise, it would grow out, hang in his eyes, and just generally be in the way. He had, the first few times, attempted this himself using his hunting knife, and the results had been somewhat wanting. The boy's mop had been uneven, and choppy; he couldn't reach the back of his head very well, much less see what he was doing. It'd gotten the job done, but one morning, when Citra had caught him in the act, she had insisted on taking over. The end results had been much better, but she sliced open her finger in the process. Images of tetanus dancing in his head, they came to a truce: Hector would let Citra trim his hair, but only after he got them a pair of scissors. The youth talked with Beras's merchant about it, and the man managed to get ahold of a pair. Which he then charged Hector an entire boar for, supply and demand at it's best.

"I suppose not." She had finished brushing out the tangles a while ago, but just enjoyed spending time like this; relaxing in the sun, with Hector. Today was one of the rare days, when they had no where to be, and nothing to do.

Citra grabbed the scissors, and got to work shearing Hector's hair. He had fallen quiet again, and long silences were most unusual for him.

"What does that mean? _Abang_?" Ah, there it was.

Citra thought a moment, "Big brother, I guess would be the most accurate translation."

"I didn't have any siblings, back in Veracruz," he professed. Something she already knew from his previous stories . "Do you really think of me as a brother?"

Citra felt happy. When she first concluded that, she had been shocked. She had not felt so carefree in a long time, not since before her mother had taken ill. When Hector had found her, she had been little better than a frightened animal. In those bleak days, two things had occupied her mind, food and getting as far away from her old home as possible. 

She had walked and walked, until, finally, she had reached the ocean, the far edge of the island. It still had not been far enough, she was still too close. The young girl did not know where she had planned to go from there, but she never had to find out. Citra had come to Beras for food. On her journey thus far, she had convinced a few charitable souls to part with some rice or bread, but mostly, she had stolen from the open-air markets Rook favored. Right as the child had reached Beras, the sky seemed to open up and rain came pouring down in heavy sheets. Citra had grown up on the Rook Islands, and was used to the sudden monsoons; they were no less unwelcome. 

The scampering noise of another person had brought her attention to a boy, maybe a year or two older, who was rushing to hide under the same overhanging roof as her. She had lashed out, more out of suprise and fear than anger. It was never a good thing, when a stranger tried to get too close so quickly. She had popped Hector good, right on his nose, drawing blood. 

Citra did not know it then, but he would become her savior and champion. He had saved her, from more than just hunger. Hector had not been any better off than her, in the beginning. Worse, maybe. He had no working knowledge of the islands, or how it's people lived. Nevertheless, he had taken to looking out for her. He had learned to hunt for food. He had found their shed, and braved a deal with Ajeng, even if the woman had never itimidated Citra like she had the boy. More than that, he had given the girl a sense of belonging. After her aunt and uncle had kicked Citra out, she had nowhere to go, and no place to be. No one was expecting her, or cared what happend to her. 

Hector did, though. He made sure the girl had something to eat every morning before leaving Beras. He made sure she stayed safe throughout the day. He saw to it she was comfortable at night and had a warm dinner in her belly. He looked after her when she got sick. She blushed a little at the last thought, of waking up with him asleep at her side. He did his best, everyday, to make sure she was happy. And she was.

He was her family now, and he ment the world to her.

The girl had not had a brother or sister either, so she did not have a real comparison, but, "Your the closest thing to family I have now. I hope you do not mind."

"No," he smiled, and started to lean his head back, before she hiss and smacked him for interrupting her work.

"Hey!" he yelped.

"Do not move," she warned, remorseless.

"Whatever you say, _Princesita_."

\-------------------------------

An hour later found them, rearanged, still on the rock. Hector now had the brush, and was attempting to braid Citra's hair. The girl was more than capable of doing it herself, she did each morning in fact, but this was his way of thanking her for her help. The boy wasn't as good at it as she was, his braids weren't as tight or orderly, one strand tended to be wider than the other two, but he was way beter than when he first attempted it, if he did say so himself.

Both looked up as raised voices came drifting from the direction of Beras Town. Any meaning was lost to the breeze, but the speakers sounded upset. The kids exchanged a look, Hector made quick work of tying off his braid, and the pair hastened their way back along the accustomed path, into town.

"What do you mean they just took it?!" It was Andhika, the owner of Beras's rice paddies. He was standing in the middle of the town's little market, yelling at two of his workers. A small audience had gathered to watch the spectacle. A crowd the two scurried to join.

"They said that it was requisitioned," the worker on the right explained. The man was fidgeting uder all the scutiny.

"By who?!" the farmer roared back.

"The president. By Noah Ward," left relayed, only slightly more calm.

"Unbelievable, unbelievable," Andhika always did have a fiery temper. "If Ward thinks he can just come, and take MY product, just because he is too CHEAP to feed his own men! Oh!" the man was beside himself. Furiously pacing back and forth, he stewed in his thoughts.

The gathered group started to murmer amongst themselves, and Hector made his way over to the two workers.

"Excuse me, but what happend?" he was pretty sure he had a good idea, but the boy wanted to make sure he was correct.

The farmhand looked too harried to be questioning why a child would need to know. "We were threshing the rice, when they came. We just finished a harvest earlier this week, so there is plenty of work that needs doing. The police showed up, and, just, started loading up bags of the grain, into their truck. When Rajasa tried to stop them, they claimed that the president was appropriating them."

The other worke, who had been nodded along with the story, added, "Rajasa knew Andhika would be angery, so he said he was going to go get him, and one of the police struck him! Bethari was looking after him and the other officers were still loading up the rice, when we managed to sneak away."

The men were, obviously, upset, and for good reason. Most of Beras depended on the rice paddies, for both food and income. If Andhika had no rice to sell, he had no money; if he had no money, he couldn't pay his employees. 

Hector didn't know the farmer too well himself. While he would often buy rice, it was never directly from the man. What little the boy did know about him, was all from the overheard conversations of his workers. Andhika wasn't nicest man, he would snap at the slightest provocation, but he was honest, and hard working. He could often be found out in his fields, working alongside his laborers. Mid-forties, skin like leather, he reminded Hector of the _vaqueros_ from back home.

"That is it! I do not care if that man wants to dig to the center of the Earth, but he does not get to come and take my things! That charlatan Ward's SHAM of a title, does not give him any right to my property!" Andhika proclaimed, before he went storming back towards his paddy fields.

Hector couldn't say what made him do it, maybe it was the memory of Baldy forcing his way into Ajeng's house, to threaten the three of them in the middle of the night, or maybe it was the scared looks the workers still wore now, but the boy moved to follow after him.

Citra latched onto his arm, stopping the youth. "What are you doing?" she hissed, alarmed.

"Stay here. Go find Ajeng," the boy urged, gently pushing the young girl back the way they'd come.

She hesitated a moment, he could see her fear, then, nodding, she released his arm. Hector watched her, until she disappeared from view behind a building, before hurrying to follow the farmer.

The youth caught up to Andhika, just before he reached his property, and ducked into some ferns near the road. All the time and practice, Hector'd spent trying to remain unseen, made his skin itch at the thought of just charging up to this group of men. He crouched down and shadowed the farmer from the thicker foliage.

The police were still there. They had parked their truck close to the grain storehouse, and two uniformed men were working together to load the bags into the back. Already there was a substantial pile in the truck bed. Hector could hear raised voices from around the other side of the building.

"Hey!" the farmer yelled. "What the hell do you think your doing?!"

The two men stopped, dropping the sack they currently held, and turned toward the approaching figure. They wore identical wary looks, but did not move from their spots.

Andhika came to a stop just in front of them, "You cannot just come here, and take my rice!"

"Actually, we can," came from out of Hector's field of vision. All three turned to face the concealed figure.

Growling in frustration, the youth weaved his way to a better position, careful to not to alert anyone to his presence. He didn't know how the men would react, and he didn't care to find out. It took time, he had to go deeper into the vegetation to keep behind concealment, and the situation had advanced while he'd been distracted.

It had been five months since Hector had last seen Baldy, and the _bastardo_ hadn't gotten any more pleasant in the interim. His favorite police officer rounded out the last of _la chota_. From the boy's better vantage point, he could see the man had been bullying another of the paddy workers into helping them pilfer Andhika's produce.

"You think your coming up here and throwing a fit is going to make us stop, old man?" Baldy responed to something unheard Andhika had said. It would seem the man had a thing against the elderly, if his insults, to both Ajeng and Andhika were anything to go by. Though Hector didn't know if he'd consider Andhika elderly.

"Tell your 'president', that he has no right to my belongings!" the farmer persisted. "You and your men need to get off of my property, right now!"

The older man resumed his advance towards the police officers, grabbing a large metal rod off of a nearby box as he went. Hector's eyes widened. Surely Andhika couldn't mean take on all three men.

Baldy sneered, then pulled a handgun from his holster, leveling it on the farmer. Not even blinking, "It's time for you to be leaving now, _anjing_. "

Hector's heart came to a stop in his chest, then picked back up double-time. For all their grandstanding, he had never actually seen any of _la chota_ attack one of the islanders. Stories of missing children aside.

Andhika came to a halt. He adjusted his grip on the pipe, shifted his weight side to side, but did not retreat. What was he doing?! He needed to get out of there, now!

Baldy, it would seem, did not appreciate his show of defiance. He fired into the ground at Andhika's feet, causing the farmer, both of the other policemen, and the child hidden in the bushes to jump.

"Come on, Cahyono, we have plenty already, let's just get out of here," one of the officers advocated. Hector couldn't tell if it was the same one from Ajeng's house, or not. He cetainly screamed NPC as much as the other man had, and he appeared just as weak-kneed at the idea of confrontation.

"No!" Baldy, or Cahyono, or whatever, snarled, "I am fucking tired of these _bajingan-bajingan_ thinking they have any say in our affairs. They need to mind their own goddamn business. It is spineless thinking like that, that got you assigned to this stupid ass, backwater in the first place!" The last part was adressed once more to Andhika, "Now you can make yourself fucking scarce, old man, or I am going to blow the brains out the back of your fucking skull!"

The boy stared on, petrified. Baldy clearly hand only become more unhinged in his absense. Hector wanted to believe that the policeman wouldn't actually shoot, but he couldn't bring himself to. Not with the look he had in his eyes. Darma might have been too much of a threat, but apparently forty-year-old men were not. And Andhika did not look to be backing down.

Hector had to do something!

"Hey!" the boy shouted. He didn't know why; he'd panicked. He just knew he couldn't stand by and watch, as Andhika got himself killed.

_La chota_ all swiveled to find the source of the sudden noise. The boy hoped the farmer would use the distration to get away, but Andhika had other plans. The man charged Baldy, inciting a fight for the weapon, the farmer grappled with the larger man trying to wrest the gun from the his hands. The two other police officers watched on, in suprise, not unlike Hector.

The pistol discharged three times. One of the police officers, the one who had spoken out, collapsed to the ground howling in pain, and clutching at his calf. His silent companion rushed to his side and, after a moment's hesitation, began applying preasure to his leg as well.

Off to the side, the fight had drawn to it's close. Andhika lay on the ground, clutching his stomach, red seeping from between his fingers, and Baldy stood over him, breathing hard, still holding the gun.

"You just could NOT leave well enough alone, could you, you stupid old man?" Straitening up, Baldy leveled his gun at the man's chest, "Well, I hope it was fucking worth it."

"No. No, no, no, wait!" Andhika tried to back away.

The bang rang out, echoing off of the cliff side.

"Cahyono! We need to get out of here!" the uninjured policman shouted.

His voice seemed to break Baldy out of whatever void his thoughts had wandered to, as he stared down at the farmer's unmoving body.

"Shit!" he swore, before heading over to help move their downed man to the truck.

Time seemed to speed up and slow down at irregular intervals, without consulting with Hector at all. The two functional men seemed to take all the time in the world, loading their comrade into the vehicle and leaving. They left their heist unfinished, forgotten, like Hector's cry. Then time lept forward, and Hector was standing over the body, without any memory of making his down the hill side. There was no theatrics, no gasping breaths or last words, just the lifeless form, eyes still open, staring at nothing and laying in the growing pool of blood forming around it. The body had the same coppery, viceral smell as the animals Hector hunted, during his time on Rook. The thought made the boy feel hot all over. 

He could feel some noise trying to claw it's way out of his throat, but he didn't know what. Hector was floating, he felt like he wasn't really there at all.

He glanced away and noticed the police had left the bag of rice they'd dropped, just laying on the ground. They hadn't even bothered to pick up the sack right next to the truck. It struck Hector as funny. And then he was laughing. He laughed, and laughed. He laughed until he couldn't breathe and tears poured from his eyes. He stood laughing over the dead body of his neighbor.

The boy felt a warm hand layed across the back of his neck, and suddenly it was all too much. He rushed to the side, and threw up. The heaves wracked his whole body, like his insides were trying to pour themselves out through his mouth. When he thought of almost puking on Andhika's body, he heaved again.

The hand returned, this time rubbing small circles on his back. Hector rested, his forarms on his knees, in a tripod position. His head was throbbing something awful, and the tears just kept coming even though the laughing had stopped. Hector felt like he had lost all control of his body. All the heat had vanished, and he was frigid.

As Hector straitened up, swiping at his mouth and eyes, Darma wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and pulled him close. Shivers continued to shake the boy's whole body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the-chapter-that-did-not-want-to-be. I fought and fought with it you guys, but I hope it turned out alright.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Far Cry 3 or any of it's contents.
> 
> Ah, at last we've reached our first time jump. Well the second, but I don't really count the first year. Anyway, the chapters that immediatly follow these gaps will probably try their best to summerize the skipped time. Enjoy

Hector lay sprawled out across an especially horizontal palm tree. He was whistling a cheerful jingle to himself as he worked. The youth was carving swirls and patterns into the shaft of his wooden spear. He couldn't recall where he had heard the tune before, probably back in Veracruz.

He was quite proud of the engraving. Hector had spent months working on the spear, whenever he had some free time. He had taken up spearfishing, after Ajeng had gone on for days about how you couldn't get fresh fish in Beras, even though the ocean was RIGHT THERE. The woman lacked any subtlety, if she wanted fish, she just had to ask. Hector had attempted to fish, the way his papá had tried so hard to teach him, but he lacked the propper equipment. He may have been able to get ahold of some, his belief in Beras's merchant grew more and more with each passing day, but he honestly was no more interested in sitting around for hours on end now, than he had been then.

When he put forth his dilemma to Darma, another individual who had earned Hector's complete faith, the man had suggested spearfishing. That sounded exciting! Spears, water, excitement, what wasn't there to love? Darma's lack of expertise apparently. His mentor had never attempted the sport before. The hunter prefered his feet firmly on the ground, right where he had the most control of his environment, and had no interest in picking it up. The man was able to give Hector a general idea if the logistics, but the boy was, more or less, on his own.

So Hector had taken it upon himself to become the self-made spearfishing expert of Beras. A title, sadly, awarded the moment he dicided to even try. 

Hector enjoyed both the swimming and the excuse to spend more time on the beach, and Ajeng made a wonderful _Ikan pepes_.

"Raaaa!" came a falsetto roar from behind. Hector flailed and nearly ate sand, in his suprise.

"Citra!" he admonished. His ruffled feathers did nothing to quell his sister's laughter.

The girl had grown a lot over the past two years. She was almost as tall as Hector now, and he couldn't stand it. Ajeng insisted that his growth spurt was still coming, and soon he'd be working just as hard to keep himself in clothes as he was for his sister, but the platitudes were starting to wear old.

He quietly went back to his work, ignoring the girl.

"Oh, come on, _Abang_. It was funny! You should have seen your face," she soothed, as she fought her way up onto the high trunk. Which Hector did nothing to help her with.

"Alright, alright, I am sorry," she tried, not looking contrite at all. 

No response. 

"Hector," his _hermana_ drew his name out, shaking his leg.

He blew some shavings off of the spear.

"And Ajeng says I am moody," Citra sighed dramatically, crossing her arms. That earned a glare.

"Look," she drove forward, "I made this for you!" She held out a leather thong with sea shells and pieces of sea glass braided into it. Hector casually took it from her hand, and studied the piece. He was actually quiet impressed with the craftsmanship. He recognized the cord as a piece of a longer strand, Ajeng had brought it home a few weeks back.

"Are you sure this is for me, and not Jaya?" he looked up slyly. He couldn't resist giving her a hard time. He hoped she really hadn't intended to gift it to the other boy, because Hector wasn't giving the necklace back.

"Yes," she huffed, moving to tie it around his neck.

Jaya had moved to Beras, a year or so ago, with his parents. He was eight, making him younger than Hector, but older than Citra. His family had moved to the small town, from the south island, to take over the rice opperation, Andhika's death had left behind. Which was good. The fields had layed fallow, and dried up. Some of the townspeople had moved away, and there weren't very many to begin with. The arrival of Jaya's family had revitalized Beras.

That didn't make Hector dislike the boy any less.

Even when he first arrived, Jaya was a shy thing. Hector had been excited about the idea of another boy his age living in town. Maybe they could be friends; they could go swimming together, Hector could show the boy all his favorite spots, and maybe he could even teach him how to hunt! When he actually met the new boy though, be had been quiet and reserved, withdrawing whenever the forceful youth got too near. Hector had been disappointed, but accepting. He probably shouldn't have been running off to go swimming anyway. He was busy working on the shed at the time, and there were sharks besides.

No, what had kindled the youths dislike, had been how Jaya followed Citra around like a stray. He didn't know when it started, he just remembered the first time he'd noticed. Hector was on his way back into Beras, from sending the day scoping out this years batch of fawns with Darma, when he spotted the two. They were "gathering" hibiscous, or so his sister had claimed, it looked more like screaming and chasing eachother around to Hector. 

He rushed over, they were making eniterly too much noise, he had to stop them! A predator might have come to investigate, and Rook's dragons were nothing like the colorful, singing and dancing ones Hector grew up with. It had nothing to do with the fact that Jaya was running around screeching with his sister, but wouldn't even talk to him. Really.

When he reached the pair of children, Jaya abruptly clammed up, like he always did around Hector, murmering and stammering excuses that he needed to get back home. Citra complained all the way back to town, about how he'd run off her friend. The youth wasn't having any of that though, they could have gotten hurt, and what kind of big brother would he have been then? He had to look out for his little sister... and her friend too.

Nonetheless, everytime Hector came across Citra, when she was SUPPOSED to be finding herbs for Ajeng, the boy would be right there with her. The girl insisted her brother couldn't be upset, she had never returned from one of their excursions empty handed, and the old woman never complained. Still, whenever Hector went to retrieve his sister for the day, he got no small satisfaction from watching Jaya squirm.

"There," she smiled at her handiwork.

He loved it. 

"Thank you, _Princesita_ ," he grinned.

The girl beamed, then quickly stopped. "Yes well, do not get used to it. I had to work twice as hard on my burn salve to convince Ajeng to part with the cord." She continued as he ran his fingers along the shells, "why are you just sitting up here anyway? Should you not be doing something useful, like catching our dinner?"

"I already did," the boy dismissed her concern, indicating a screwpine basket off to the side. He went back to carving a wave into the shaft, but continued to listen as Citra detailed her woe-of-the-day. It was familiar, and always managed to sooth the part of the boy that missed home most.

They sat together like that, as slowly the sun sank beneath the water. Which, no matter how many Rakyat stories Ajeng told them, Hector would not take as anything more than a figure of speach.

"We should get headed to the house," the boy commented, cutting his sister off mid moan about the grip on her new knife.

The duo made their way past their shed. The shed had undergone some construction in the past two years. 

Hector, with the help of his favorite merchant, got ahold of some decently preserved lumber and nails. He was almost certain there was a building, somewhere, that mysteriously lost a wall in the middle of he night. He'd been able to board up the entire front side of the shed, making the dilapidated crates out front redundant. It looked odd, the new wood clashing with the overall wear and tear of the rest, but it was privacy they had been sorely lacking before. Citra whined that he should have boarded up the east wall as well, and made a doorway, but the third wall already made him feel claustrophobic, and he was half afraid he wouldn't wake up in the morning without the sunlight streaming in.

He had also cobbeled together a pair of makeshift beds for the two of them. Which the _princesita_ didn't complain about. Both were piled high with pelts Hector had collected.

Improvements or no, the shed was the shed, and Ajeng's was referred to as the house.

Citra helped him carry food to the house. They brought meat, vegitables, and fruit, Ajeng supplied herbs, seasoning, and know-how. Their dinners with the bruja had become another balm for his homesickness.

They were almost inside when a scream split the air. It had sounded like it came from just outside town. Citra looked back at Hector, unsettled.

"Go inside," he told her. She gave him a sour look, she used to be much better at following instructions, before indignantly stalking into Ajeng's home.

The youth left his bundle on the porch, and, quietly, made his way towards the edge of town. Just outside Hector came to a stop, crouched in the shadowy lee of one of Beras's outskirting buildings. Nothing.

Ask anyone around Beras, they'll tell you the same thing. The town lost people whenever the paddies had shut down, but the arrival of the new landowners had townsfolk moving in. Beras was almost as big as it ever was, if not filled with the same people. But Hector knew, Hector saw. It had started not long after Andhika had been shot. The odd person, here or there, would just disappear. They'd wish their friends well for the evening, and would never be heard from again. At first it had just blended in with the mass exodus of everyone else, but even now, with the town once more flourishing, a man one day, a boy a couple months later, people were going missing.

Something caught Hector's gaze. When he moved closer he found a woman's scarf, snagged in the spindly arms of a shrub, and tire tracks leading away from the village. It wasn't just children being preyed upon anymore.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Far Cry 3 or any of its contents

Hector was up near the top of one of hills that neighbored Beras Town. Darma had brought him up there, to a kind of provisional firing range.

When his mentor had asked him how his skills, with the gun he had gifted Hector, had come along, the boy had been forced to answer truthfully. He hadn't even touched the thing, other than to take it apart for cleaning, since it'd been given to him. He wasn't stupid, he wasn't going to let the gun rust, but he did not have the money to keep feeding the weapon ammo either. So it had sat, unused, at the bottom of their laundry basket.

The hunter had given the boy one of his special looks.The look that said: he's disapointed, that he knows he tought you better, but he'll help you out, because he still cares. Hector had mixed emotions about that look.

So, the next time the two males had made the trip down to Badtown, the boy never made the journey alone, he had picked up a box of 10mm ammo.

They'd been up there several times now, and the boy felt like he was starting to get the hang of it. The range consisted of four burlap sacks stuffed with who knows what, and three unlucky trees. When Hector had asked why have the range all the way up on the hill, Darma had launched into his first lesson. Collateral damage.

The gun his mentor had given to him was powerful, not in some mystical, magical, voodoo way, but in a if-you-shoot-something-with-this-it-very-well-might-come-out-the-other-side-and-hurt-someone-else kind of way. It also ment that, should Hector ever run into the Undying Bear, he might be able to buy himself enough time to get away, if he emptied enough rounds into it. It was a fine line to tread; the weapon needed to be useful as protection around the town, and out in the jungle.

The recoil had taken some getting used to. It wasn't like anything else Hector had even done, certainly his bow didn't have a kickback. The noise, that was new too. His ears didn't seem to stop ringing for hours after his first day actually practicing with the gun. Needless to say, it wasn't the boy's favorite weapon, he doubted he would ever use it for anything other than self defense, but the memory of what happend to Andhika made him swallow any of his complaints. He would never let himself, or Citra, find themselves in such a position. The disappearances also weighed heavy in the youth's mind.

The drills, Hector's mentor had him running today, had him centered in the middle of his targets. Darma would call out one, from the collection of curious names they had each been given, and Hector would move to shoot his assigned target. The man never called out the same target in a row, proventing Hector from adjusting his aim baised on his previous shot. They had used a similar practice when the hunter had tought the boy to use a bow. Of course, shooting arrows had never made his wallet weep like bullets did.

It worked though, Hector felt far and away more confident with the firearm, than when he first started.

After his last drill, and thoroughly scaring away any creature in a half mile radius, Hector went to sit next to Darma. 

"Are all Rakyat so smart?" the nine-year-old inquired.

Darma gave him an incredulous look, and, wow, yeah, that came out way more flatterning than he intended, but he ment it. The man had proven himself proficient in a number of things, that, sure, were mostly related, but still impressed the boy. Ajeng, too, was knowledgeable in a wide range of herbal skills, and had, at one point, alledgedly, worked with pottery too. Citra was young, but, even when he'd met her, she had displayed a striking amount of know-how.

"It's just, back in Veracruz, it seems like, people struggled to find just one thing they were good at, or liked to do, but here on Rook, everyone seems to be good at everything," the boy expanded. It made Hector feel inadequate, and he hated it. He was never not good enough back home.

"Much of what I know, was passed down to me by my father," the man disclosed. He seemed to decide against commenting on Hector's out of character compliment. He could probably see the youth's unease.

"Even how to use a gun?" the boy morosely wondered aloud.

"No. That was something I learned later," there was humor in his voice that Hector wasn't privy too.

"But everything else," the boy concluded.

"About hunting anyway. Why?"

The youth shrugged, he might dislike the feeling of inadequacy, but wild horses wouldn't tear the admission from his lips.

"Well, do not feel too bad for anyone from your home town." Darma's devious look left little doubt the man saw right through him, just like always. It was a look Hector obstinately ignored. "What is the saying? Nessecity is the mother of invention. Much of what I know, I learned because, without it, I would not still be here. My father tought me much, but more still I have learned later in life, about the islands, about others, and about myself in particular. As long as you are alive, you will continue to aquire new knowledge and skills. For this is growth, without growth a person stagnates, and stagnation is a death all its own."

Hector had given up on his vexation, to better cosider his mentor words. The statement didn't require a responce, nor did Darma ever expect one. The words were a comfort, the hunter was many years older than him, Ajeng older still. He had plenty of time to learn and grow, and he planned to do a lot more growing before he was done.

\-----------------------------

The youth was making his way back down the road, towards Beras Town.

It had gotten dark while he was still out hunting. Usually he wouldn't be out this late, but he had got off to a slow start, after putting in time practicing at his improvised range that morning. He was returning empty handed, but his survival instincts weren't going to let him wander about after dark with the tigers.

The paddies were starting to come into view, when Hector noticed one of _la chota's_ vehicles parked along the road.

The _pendejos_ had started to spend more and more time around Beras, over the last couple of years. The boy didn't fancy that it was the disappearances causing the police activity so much as the other way around.

The youth carefully scanned the area for movement. If they were watching the road, they'd probably already spotted him. Hector was not interested in finding out, first hand, where all those people kept getting dragged off to.

There! Movement a small ways further down the road and into the trees.

Hector made himself at home, settling into the shadows like another might their favorite bath robe, amongst the jungle foliage. He steadily made his way over, to see what trouble they were causing now.

Two of the policemen stood, staring up into one of the trees. The boy recognized neither.

"Help!" came a fearful bleat. It was quiet, relatively, certainly no one in Beras was going to hear.

It would seem _la chota_ had treed their prey. The image would be almost comical, if puddles of blood and unseeing eyes didn't flash across his mind at the sight.

"Come down from there," one of them crooned, "were not gonna hurt ya."

And suddenly Hector was angery. These _bastardos_ come to his village, kill its people, and just expect the rest of the populace to roll over? Hector didn't know who was up in that tree, but he'd be damned he was going to let these _cabròns_ take them away too.

He needed a plan. Confronting them wasn't going to work. The boy might be deadly, but there wasn't much intemidating about a four-foot-three child, and the thought of taking a life made his skin crawl. He did not want to be like these monsters.

The gun was a solid, cold weight at Hector's back.

"Help," came another, softer sob.

The men cajoled the voice again.

No. The boy was not going to allow this, not now that he was able to stop it.

He carefully drew the gun from where it was tucked into his waistband. Not the safest place to carry it, but few people made Delta Elite holsters for children, if you'd believe it. The heft of the firearm made the butterflies in the boy's stomache go crazy. He couldn't decide if he was excited to put his practice to use, or if he was going to be sick. Hector just knew he had to stop these men.

Hector took careful aim at the ground near the officers, took a deep steading breath, and fired.

The boy was suprised to find it pleased a small part of him, to watch the uniformes jump and scramble about in fright. The voice up in the tree screamed, the loudest noise it had made yet. 

"Jesus!"

"What the fuck?!" 

The officers were rallying back together, though they didn't seem to know where the bullet had come from, both had been focus solely on their hapless victim. One of them reached to grab his own gun. Hector took aim once more, again cautious not to hit anyone, and fired into a tree, within their reach. Splinters went flying.

"Shit!" one swore before tearing off towards the road. And again that same small part purred in pleasure, let the _bastardos_ feel the fear they liked to so imspire in the people of Beras.

"David!" his partner, the _pandejo_ who'd been talking to the treed villager, called after him. The man cast one last quick glance in Hector's direction. The hair on the boy's arms stood up, he swore the man looked right at him. Then the officer, too, was running towards the road.

The boy wasn't a fool, he followed the men, to make sure they really left. The first to run was already in the truck by the time the second arrived. 

As they sped off, the adrinaline seemed to catch up with Hector. He was shaking all over, he was almost afraid to tuck his gun back away, incase he shot himself.

A huge smile stretched its way across his face. Hah! He'd done it! He ran the _pandejos_ out of Beras. Maybe they would think twice before coming back next time!

Hector went back to the tree, to see if he could help whoever _la chota_ had managed to chase up into it.

Quiet crys were still coming from its boughs upon Hector's return. The boy glanced up, trying to catch a glimps of the quarry. It was dark, and the foliage did its part in blocking his veiw, but the youth thought he recognized the silhouetted form.

"Jaya?" the boy asked, disbelieving.

A loud sniff.

The youth wanted to roll his eyes, of course. He should have reconized that sniveling. He immediatly winced. He probably would have been in a panic too, if he'd been cornered by those _bastardos_.

"Jaya?" he tried again. Kinder this time.

"H-Hecor?" the boy gasped, choking on a sob.

"Yeah," he tried to sooth, "it's me. Why don't you come down from there?"

A shuddering laugh. "I... I-I don't... think I know h-h-how," the younger boy admitted.

"Then how did you get up there?" the youth questioned, exasperation mounting.

"I-I don't know!" he wailed. The young boy was well on his way to working himself back up.

What? Fantastic. Hector heaved a sigh, nessecity the mother of invention indeed.

"Here... let me just..." and now Hector was starting to sound as bad as the other boy. That sparked his anger.

Hector crawled his way up into the tree. Luckily, Jaya hadn't made his way up all that high. 

The boy only sat one branch above Hector now. He clutched at the tree trunk with his knees pulled to his chest, his face burried in one of his arms.

Jaya had been born here on Rook, but both of his parents had moved to the islands, following the big minning boom. Both of Jaya's parents originally came from Germany.They claimed to have come to the islands to make their fortune, but fell in love with the land itself. The end result was Jaya, a boy with a local name, who could speak Bahasa as well as any native, but who managed to look even more foriegn than Hector. 

Jaya was pale, the kind of pale that came from generations of his ancestors living in a cooler climate, that all the years in the world living on an island won't change. He had dark brown hair offset by pale blue eyes, and a long narrow nose. Overall he wasn't much what Hector was used to back in Veracruz either.

Hector gently reached out, laying a hand on the boys leg, he didn't want him to freak out and fall from the tree. The boy shuddered, but looked down at him.

"We need to get down from here," Hector explained slowly. "Do you think you can follow what I do?"

The boy stared at him with watery eyes. Looking for what Hector didn't know, but after a moment he nodded.

That was a relief. Hector's next plan had mostly just involved shoving the boy out of the tree, and he didn't want to have to explain to Citra why her friend had a broken leg.

"Good, that's good," the boy encouraged.

And they did, actually manage, to get safely down the tree, the younger boy following the elder's steps exactly. On the last hop down, the longest by far, it had taken a bit of coaxing, but after another searching look from the boy, and Hector's reasurance he would catch him, Jaya made the last jump.

"There, that wasn't so bad," the statement was more to himself than Jaya, but the younger boy looked up with a smile anyway. "Do you think you can make your way home from here?"

The tears had all dried up by now, but the boy instantly looked ready to cry again, at the thought of walking home alone.

"No, no, no, no, none of that!" Hector hurried to stop him. "I'll walk you home. Yeah, no need to panic."

The adrinaline was gone, his feet were sore, and he wasn't feeling nearly so good about his victory tonight as he had while riding his body's natural chemical high, and now it looked like he was going to have to walk the brat to his house, instead of going strait home to his bed. Hector hadn't felt so tired in a long while.

They were both quite for walk back to Beras. Hector tired and slightly irritable, Jaya kept looking like he wanted to say something, but always stopped himself before he did. Good.

He kept glancing over at Hector, with that same look as in the tree.

Just before making it to the building, Jaya seemed to find his nerve. "T-thank you, H-Hector," he murmed to his feet.

He earned the youth's grudged admiration, for finally speaking up, and a wry smile.

"Sure. Your welcome. Let's not make a habit of it though."

The younger boy looked up with wide eyes, and nodded vigorously.

"Jaya!" the cry came from the now open door of the young boy's home. His mother stood in the door way, backlit with tears running down her face. The boy went running over to hug his mom, he was crying. Again. 

Yep, Hector wanted exactly nothing to do with this. He quickly made his exit, into the dark, before he got dragged in.

As he settled into his bed for the night, he felt fabric slap across his back. 

He arched a brow at his sister, who had swung her blanket at him. She was staring back at him expectantly from her own bed. He answered her silent demand with a shrug. No need to worry her, Jaya was going to be fine.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Far Cry 3 or any of its contents.

They had been treking inland for a while now. The trees and underbrush had grown steadily thicker, a reflection of how deep into the jungle the pair had come; the young girl kept a watchful eye out for snakes and other creatures that may be lurking in any of the heavy foliage. Citra usually would not venture this far away from Beras, but Ajeng had exhausted her supply of painted nettle.

The young apprentice did not know much about the herb, beyond that her teacher used it for her tea. Her elder held that she would train Citra in its use, just as soon as the girl finished perfecting her aloe salve, but Citra got the distinct impression that Ajeng was putting it off, and the girl did not know why. The woman was usually just as excited to pass on her knowledge as Citra was to learn. The woman seemed ambivalent in this case.

The girl was brought out of her thoughts by conspicuous noises of rustling fronds and snapping twigs. Jaya came stumbling out of the ferns directly behind her, shaking leaves free from his hair. The boy moved through the jungle with about as much poise as a blind buffalo with a lame leg. Smirking, Citra gently pucked a leaf he had missed from the boy's head.

"You are a mess," she chided. For all that Jaya was older than her, Citra spent an awful lot of time looking after the other child. She did not mind so much, it was nice, not being always being the dependent one. He was much less mature than her brother, or even Citra herself. The result of gowing up with someone else in charge of the tough choices, with parents to look after you? The thought dampened the girl's mood. It could be, she was the bizarre one of the two.

" _Terima Kasih_ ," he smiled up at her. Jaya was always good-natured and kind, even out in the middle of nowhere, covered in vegitation and humidity. 

" _Sama-sama_ ," she replied, his smile infectious.

It was nice to speak in her own tongue. Most of Rook spoke english to some extent. Too many foriegners had come and gone, from the islands, to have not have left lasting mark, but Bahasa was still the language she grew up with. The langauge the girl listened to her mother tell her stories in. It was the sound she identified with home.

She had tried teaching Hector her native language. While he was a quick learner, her brother had picked up the wording and syntax with remarkable aplomb, if she thought his accent was silly in English, it only sounded all the more ridiculous in Bahasa. She still taught him new words, from time to time, but they conversed in English for the majority.

Jaya spoke Bahasa as comfortably as Citra, and was plenty willing to forego English all together, when it was just the two of them. The boy was able to give her that small piece of her home back, and that ment a great deal to her.

When Jaya had first arrived in Beras, Citra had begrudged the boy. Hector had talked about nothing, for days beforehand, but how much fun the two boys were going to have playing together. Her brother spent much of his time with Darma hunting, practicing, or just going off into the jungle. Ajeng said that it was a good thing, that he needed "boy time"; being around a strong male presense was good for him. Whatever that ment.

What it ment to the girl was that he never spent much time with her. Two days ago, he had not even arrived home in time for dinner. She should not complain, the things Hector was off doing went a long way towards feeding them, and buying other amenities. This new kid, however, was just going to be taking up what little time Citra did have with Hector. Why could her brother not go swimming with her, or show HER his favorite place to fish?

When the pair had met Jaya for the first time, though, the younger boy had shied away from Hector, withdrawing from his exubrance. Citra had been relieved. While she could not understand how anyone could not love him like she did, the girl was too happy, knowing Jaya would never be competion for _Abang_ 's attention, to care.

Citra felt bad about resenting Jaya, he had turned out to be a great friend to her. Proven now, by his willingness to follow the girl out into the midle of the wilderness.

" _What are we looking for again_?" her tag along asked in Bahasa.

"Painted nettle, or coleus," the apprentice gave both of the herb's names.

Jaya's expression showed no signs of recognition.

" _It looks like... well_ ," Citra did not know how to explain it. She had never actually seen the plant, just the leaves, but, " _It is redish with... green_." Not her best description ever, but the only one she could offer. Ajeng claimed that the plant grew near their current location. The only reason they had fought their way out this far. The girl just hoped she ment down below, and the pair was not going to have to find a way to climb up on top of the sheer bluff they were edging along.

Jaya seemed to take the portrayal to heart, and started to look for such a plant. Citra was grateful to the boy. Had their rolls been reversed, the girl knew she would have demanded a better description, before she waisted her time. Whatever her older brother might say, Jaya really was a big help finding all the flora Ajeng sent them after. So what if sometimes they played tag on the way.

They had been at their hunt for a few minutes before: "Citra?" Jaya sounded curious, but not particularly excited. Not a declaration of discovery, then. Her hopes, for a quick return home, rose and fell in rapid succession.

" _Yes_?" the girl looked up, across at her friend. They had made steady progress, combing their way along the lower cliff face.

" _How long have you known_ Hector?" the boy asked self-conciously, refusing to make eye contact.

Odd. It was like the boy to acted timid around her brother, but never when it was just the two of them.

" _I guess, about three years now_ ," she answered. "Why?"

" _It's just, he's your brother and all, but you're not really related right_?"

The statement aggravated Citra, " _He is still my brother, blood or no_." Who would question their bond?

Jaya seemed to realize his offense, and was quick to appease the firey girl, " _That's not what I ment! I know you and Hector are close! I just was wondering... you know... how long it took for the two of you to become so special... to eachother_."

Now she was confused. Usually, Abang was a topic the boy avoided. The young girl was not quite sure how to react to Jaya's sudden interest. What had happened to cause the change in her friend's attitude?

A dance of color, striking amidst a sea of emerald green, caught Citra's attention from the corner of her eye. She whirled to face it.

" _Ha ha! I found it_!" the young alprentice crowed.

There grew the painted nettle plant, at about two feet tall. It was a rather thick patch, more than plenty for Ajeng's tea.

The boy hurried over to see Citra's discovery for himself. The plant was indeed covered in the sizeable leaves Citra had described. He was more inclined to call them purple, than red, however.

" _So, what does it do_?" Jaya prompted. Citra usually took the time to lecture him on what all each of their finds were used for. That she would wait until they found their objective was out of character. The pair's journey had been markedly quiet.

Citra visibly deflated at his question.

" _I do not... really... know_ ," the girl admitted, each of the words sounded forcibly pulled from of her. She stared down at the plant, as if she peered long and hard enough the shrub might reveal its secrets to her. " _Ajeng makes tea with it_ ," she added as an after thought.

" _Maybe it just tastes good_?" he encouraged. Certainly, not every herb and bush on the islands would have some undisclosed property.

Citra's brow furrowed further, " _No. This is not what she would normaly use when she makes her tea; I have only seen her use it a handful of times. Ajeng only used painted nettle when she was stressed out_."

" _A relaxant then_?" Jaya tried.

An ambiguous shrug. She could not say for sure.

And the older woman did not seem to be interested in telling the girl anytime soon. Citra bit at her lower lip. Of course, the girl could find her own answers here and now.

She did not want to go agaist her teacher's wishes, Citra respected Ajeng a great deal. She had taught the girl so much about medicine and the islands flora, when she easly could have just accepted the girl's payments of herbs and walked away. Less hassle for everyone involved that way, but she had taken Citra under her wing and gave her something no one else had offered: security for the future. No matter what happend now, Citra had knowledge and skills she could fall back on. Even if the worst should come to pass, should something happend to her big brother, Citra knew she could take care of herself. She hated to think like that, but life had taught her the hard way just how figile happiness was. It felt disrespectful, of all Ajeng had done, to disobey her. But, the woman had not told her to NOT try the herb, just that she would teach her about it later, so technically she was not going against her.

Citra glanced over at Jaya, who had been silently watching her internal struggle, " _I suppose there is a way we could find out_."

" _What do you mean_?" Jaya asked, mild-mannered as ever.

The girl snatched up a leaf of the painted nettle. " _If I start to act strange, go find Ajeng_ ," she solemly told her companion.

" _Wait, what?! Are you sure that's safe_?!" he interjected, taken aback. This seemed like a horrible idea. It would kill him if anything happend to Citra; she was his best friend.

" _There is nothing for it. If she will not show me, I must learn for myself_ ," just saying the words helped steel her conviction.

The young boy offered no further objection, though he looked about ready to throw himself on top of her, just to put a stop the whole situation. He fidgeted with his hands and shifted his weight from foot to foot, concern pulling his face into a grimace. In the end, he was too soft. Jaya may not want her to injest the plant, but he would do no more than protest the idea.

" _It will be alright_ ," Citra consoled him, trying to soothe his fears. " _If anything goes wrong, you are here to look out for me right_?"

Her reasurance fell on deaf ears.

Nothing for it, she pushed forward with her plan. The first thing she noticed was the taste: bitter, with an overwhelming vegitation taste her brother might have described as lawn clippings. The fibers seem to catch in-between her teeth, as she ground it up. The texture was velvet and ridges. Overall, it was a lot like chewing on a leaf.

Citra did not feel any different. Not light headed, no tingling, no slowing heart rate, not even particularly calm. Maybe it had to do with the method. The leaf needed to be strained with water to get the effects? Dried before use, perhaps?

It started out as a tingle at the base of her skull, an itch fingers could not reach. A nuisance, nothing more. After she noticed it, however, the feeling seemed to grow and expand under her attention, spreading into the far reaches of her mind. It made her irritable, like she needed to be moving, the feeling formed into an all-consuming compulsion. Something was wrong, and she needed to find Hector. The pair needed to get back to Beras, and now!

"We have to go!" the girl turned on her heel, and started back into the trees. The physical action did nothing to allay her apprehinsion.

"Citra! Wait! What's wrong? Are you feeling sick?" the boy rushed to catch up with her.

"We need to get home, quick!" She took off at a run.

Something terrible was coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any italicized English is implied to be in another langauge.


End file.
